


The Glass

by Chromatic_Spark



Series: The Glass [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub, Domestic Violence, F/M, Slow Burn, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 06:57:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19942066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chromatic_Spark/pseuds/Chromatic_Spark
Summary: I work for Dr Hannibal Lecter, its my job to know everything about him. To preempt his every whim. Its been this way for years and he's always kept a professional distance between us.There's something standing between him and I. Something I cannot see.





	The Glass

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place before Hannibal meets Will Graham. He's already well settled in as The Chesapeake Ripper but as yet has no connection to the FBI.

“Good Morning, Dr Lecter. Your coffee is on your desk, I thought a french roast suited this morning.” I say as he enters the room. As usual he looks immaculate in a dark blue three piece suit, his hair combed meticulously and his black leather shoes shining softly in the light of the new day.  
“Thank you, Miss Grace.” He replies, sweeping past to the door of his office.  
“Your first appointment is in half an hour and here is your mail.” I continue rising to hand him the neat pile of envelopes. He turns and takes it from me, careful not to touch my fingers. Our eyes meet briefly but there is nothing there for me in his gaze, just as there is nothing in mine for him.

I have been his personal assistant for three years. In that time we have repeated the same interactions every day. I arrive at his home at minimum 45 minutes before his first appointment, sort his mail, make coffee and settle to read through his emails and sort them. I greet his patients, book their follow up appointments and make sure they leave promptly to allow a small amount of time between each appointment. My lunch is short but I never eat at my desk. I usually go and eat in my car, listening to music. After his final appointment (or whenever he chooses to dismiss me) I make sure that everything is clean and tidy for the next day before locking the door behind me.  
I keep his diary, both professional and personal, though be rarely speak beyond this. I often accompany him to larger engagements in order to help him book later events. I also help him organise his own events, such as his legendary dinner parties.  
During the day I use the quiet to study for my own degree, he allows me the use of his library which is invaluable despite my studies being Sociology rather than Psychology. When I started the job I had of course hoped that I’d gain some of his insight into the subject. He is, of course, as brilliant as he is multifaceted. Unfortunately our interactions have been minimal since day one.  
Once a week on a Monday I come into his office to give him a summary of the weeks events and he informs be of any alterations or additions that are needed. I keep it all in a small, leather bound diary that I keep with me at all times. Dr Lecter may call on me at any moment to check and update his schedule and of course my own life must fit around this. His events are written in ink, my own in pencil.  
I have a key to his home, where I only stay in the area allocated for his office and reception areas unless otherwise invited, access to a petty cash bank account from which I am permitted to buy supplies for the office and appropriate clothing for events.  
I know nothing of his personal life, only that he is a man of taste who greatly enjoys cooking for others. I have never had the pleasure of his table.  
He knows nothing of my personal life save that I have a long term boyfriend who lives with me.  
It’s like there is a sheet of glass between us. We move in tandem without breaking step but never touch, never interact beyond that. We have only physically touched once, a handshake at the start of my employment.  
He pays me remarkably well with the expectation that I am reliable and that he can trust me. I have not failed him yet.

“Miss Grace, you may leave for the evening.” He has opened the door of his office to speak to me.  
“Thank you, Dr Lecter. Have a pleasant night.” I say and pack up my things. He often overruns his evening sessions and does not wish to keep me late.  
I leave his house and drive home. I live only ten minutes away in an apartment that I bought years ago with money I was left by my parents. While it would pale in comparison to Dr Lecter’s house it is well appointed and decorated to my own tastes.  
When I open the door my boyfriend looks up from his usual slumped position on my couch. Beer in hand, baseball game blaring on my wide-screen TV.  
“You’re home early.” He grunts and turns back to the game.  
“Dr Lecter let me go a little early, he’s got a patient that’s likely to overrun.” I explain, putting my bag on the counter and stepping out of my patent leather shoes. “How was your day?”  
“Good.” He says, as soon as the word leaves his mouth he forgets I’m there again. Robert does this regularly and I am used to it. A callus has formed over the pain.  
I pick up my shoes and take them through to my bedroom and put them away neatly in my walk in closet. Its divided into two halves; the perfectly ordered racks of my suits, dresses, blouses and shoes and the chaos that is his side. I have asked him repeatedly to tidy it but he either refuses or cannot meet this small expectation.  
I take out my earrings and take off my suit jacket. Dr Lecter expects me to maintain the quality of my appearance alongside everything in his home. My suits and dresses are designer, my shoes are bespoke and my jewellery is all real. The idea of wearing costume gems in front of him is both terrifying and a little thrilling.  
I walk back out and into the kitchen.  
“What would you like for dinner?” I call to him.  
“Already ate.” He replies and I sigh. I put together a quick meal for one and pour myself a glass of wine. I sit at the kitchen table alone.  
Just as I finish my last bite my phone rings with a very particular tone. I can hear Robert swear from the other room, he knows who it is.  
“Good evening, Dr Lecter.” I say into my phone, ignoring the ranting that filters through the wall. I flip open the diary, pen at the ready.  
“Good evening, Miss Grace. I have been invited to a gallery opening on Friday evening. I will require you to attend with me.” He replies smoothly. If he can hear Robert he shows no sign.  
“Of course.” I reply and take down the details. Luckily I try to stay ahead of the events and have a new dress that will be appropriate for this event.  
By the time I end the call Robert is standing in front of me, face twisted in anger.  
“Paula! Why do you just drop everything for that faggot?” He growls and I roll my eyes.  
“Because it’s my job, we’ve been over this.” I say, picking up my wine and walking away but he grabs my arm and spins me roughly to face him.  
“You’re going on another date with him, aren't you?” He says, sneering.  
“It’s not a date!” I snap, trying to pull my arm away. I look up at him, he’s a lot taller than me and i have to tilt my head quite far to look in his face. He’s drunk, he’s probably been drinking most of the day. “Its work! Remember what that is?” I say and the cords in the neck stand up. I know I’ve pushed it. He’s sensitive to any reminder that he was laid off a few weeks ago. My patience for him lounging around the house has reached its limit. “Dr Lecter pays our bills, you should be glad I’ve got a boss like him.”  
It’s the sound of the slap that hits me before the pain. I stumble back and touch my cheek tenderly. My lip has split and I can taste the sour copper of my blood mixing with the wine on my tongue. He twists a hand in my carefully curled hair and drags my head up.  
“I hope you know that you deserved that.” He hisses and I try to nod, to give him what he wants. I can feel the tears forming in my eyes, streaming down my cheeks.  
“Yes.” I say, I can feel my cheek swelling. A lifetime of working on building sites means even an open palm could have shattered my jaw.  
“Now, I want you to call that sissy back and tell him you’re not going anywhere with him. Got it?” He orders, shaking me a little.  
“Yes, honey.” I squeak and he hands me my phone. He releases me and I stumble back.  
“Go clean yourself up.” He barks and I turn away.  
Teetering into the bathroom I catch sight of myself in the mirror. Anger rises in me and I lock myself in, knowing he’s likely listening at the door.  
“Dr Lecter?” I say into the air, playacting as my fingers speed over the screen on my phone. Reaching for a lifeline. “Yes, I’m so sorry to bother you this late. Unfortunately I won’t be able to attend this Friday.” I pause again as if listening and hear a grunt of approval from behind the door.  
“I’m feeling unwell, would it be okay if I took the rest of the week off as well?” I continue, hitting send. The reply takes seconds.  
“Thank you, I will see you on Monday.” I say into nothing, slipping my phone into a pocket.  
“All done.” I call through the door.  
“Good, now come out and let me kiss it better.” He says, obviously pleased with himself.  
“May I have a moment to fix my makeup?” I ask demurely.  
“Go ahead, just bring me a beer when you’re done.” He orders and I listen to his footsteps receding.  
I wait until I get another message, blotting the blood on my chin gently. My makeup is smeared and I remove it carefully my fingers shaking.  
I emerge and fetch him a cold beer from the fridge. As I hand it to him with a watery smile there is a knock at the door.  
“I’ll get that.” I simper and he grins at my new attitude. The grin fades when I open the door to the police.  
They drag him away and I give a statement. They check me over and I refuse the hospital.  
By midnight I’m alone again. I grab the bottle of wine and head for the bedroom. I pull out a trash bag and shovel his clothes into it. Three bags later and I’ve packed up everything of his and left them in a pile by the door.  
Sleep comes quickly as the adrenaline leaves my system, I barely notice his absence in the bed.

I wake early and sit for a while, carefully covering my bruised face with makeup. It takes a little experimenting but at last I’m satisfied. I pin my hair up neatly and pull on my favourite dusty pink suit and white silk blouse. A casual spritz of perfume and the addition of some simple silver jewellery and I’m ready for work.  
The drive doesn’t take long and I decide that something with Italian flair would be best for the coffee today. I gather the mail as I hear the distant sounds that till me Dr Lecter is going to arrive soon.  
I open the curtains in his office and the reception area and take my seat.  
“Good Morning, Dr Lecter. Your coffee is on your desk.” I say as he enters, resplendent in bottle green today.  
“Thank you, Miss Grace.” He says, straightening his tie.  
“Your first appointment has left a message to say they are running a little late. Here is your mail.” I say, standing and holding out the envelopes.  
He reaches out and as usual our eyes meet. I try not to hold my breath, hoping he doesn't see anything. Nothing.  
As the door closes I let out a breath slowly and turn to my work. I’m not entirely sure why I want to hide what happened from him. There was something shameful about it that would be ugly in the light of day, especially under the scrutiny of those very powerful eyes.

“Miss Grace, would you care to join me for lunch?” I look up at his question, I try not to gape at him. He’s stood in front of my desk, an appropriate distance away with a polite smile on his lips.  
“Of course.” I reply and get up to follow him to his beautifully appointed kitchen. He motions for me to take a seat on a stool next to the counter-top as he starts to take a few things from the fridge.  
“Is this the first time that he’s hit you?” He asked, not looking at me. My heart sinks and I close my eyes, of course he noticed. Why did I bother trying to hide it?  
“First and last.” I say, trying to stay calm. “He’s in police custody.”  
“I see. Why did you see the need to cover the marks?” He begins to prepare the food, what looks to be a terrine of some description with melba toast and ripe fruits. He puts a plate in front of me and seats himself opposite.  
“I’m not sure.” I reply, the truth. “I felt it inappropriate to bring my personal life to work with me.”  
“It did not occur to you to take the day off?” He asks, spreading a napkin across his lap elegantly.  
“No, I would prefer to keep to routine.” I reply and take a bite of the food. “Wonderful.” I say and he gives me a ghost of a smile.  
“If you wish, you are not required to attend the gallery opening with me.” He says taking a bite himself.  
“I suppose I shouldn’t, as the bruising is so obvious.” I reply with a sigh. He stands and pours a small glass of white wine for each of us.  
“Not at all, you’ve done a good job covering it.” He says, taking a seat.  
“Then how-” I start.  
“I could smell the extra foundation, a brand you do not use often.” He says and I can’t help but smile.  
“Then I would be glad to attend.” I say and he raises his glass.

The gallery opening is much like many others I have attended with Dr Lecter. I stand to his left, three steps behind him with the diary at the ready. I don’t interact much with the crowd around me, careful to listen to those gathered around my employer, watching for his indication that he would like me to put something in his schedule.  
I’m dressed in an immaculate Vivian Westwood cocktail dress that hugs my curves well without revealing too much. In comparison with some of the women of my age in the mass around me I am dressed in a very demure fashion, but my aim is to blend in, not stand out. I was raised in this world of champagne and empty laughter, I know how to stay invisible.  
Every so often, Dr Lecter glances at me and I interpret his expressions as carefully as I can. I’m rarely wrong.  
“You look lovely.” He says to me during a brief moment when his audience has dispersed. “You were wondering if anyone could tell you’ve covered those bruises. You did well, I’m sure no one has worked it out.”  
“Thank you, Dr Lecter.” I respond and offer him a brief smile before another society lady draws him away.  
At the end of the evening I stand outside and pull out my phone to call an Taxi. Anticipating a few glasses of wine I got a taxi here. Normally Robert would have picked me up. The loneliness that is spread in front of bee makes the night seem darker and colder.  
“Miss Grace?” Dr Lecter has appeared at my side. “How are you getting home?”  
“I’m getting a taxi.” I reply and he raises an eyebrow.  
“At this time of night on a Friday you could be waiting some time.” He says, his concern is pleasant.  
“I’ll be okay, thank you, Dr Lecter.” I say and he turns to stand in front of me.  
“If I remember correctly your apartment is on the way to my house. Please permit me to drive you.” He says gallantly.  
“I very much doubt your memory is ever incorrect, Dr Lecter.” I say and realise that for the first time I have stepped over the line of professionalism. To my relief, he lets out a short but sincere chuckle and motions for me to accompany him to his car. 

I don’t notice it but the tiniest crack has formed in that glass that sits between us.

He drives a very stately Mercedes that I have often sent to be cleaned or serviced but have never sat inside. We sit in silence as he drives smoothly through the darkened streets. The silence is comfortable, we have worked in parallel for so long it’s familiar to be so close and not to interact.  
He pulls up outside my building and I climb out. I turn to thank him and stop dead.  
“What is it?” He asks, following his gaze.  
“That’s Robert’s car.” I breathe, ice running down my spine. I knew that he’d been released on bail but I’d hoped he’d stay away.  
“What would you like to do? Shall I call the police?” Dr Lecter asks and I take a deep breath.  
“No, there’s nothing to call about right now.” I say and turn to him. “I’ll be okay, Dr Lecter. Thank you very much for the ride. I will see you on Monday.” I close the door and start walking to the foyer.  
As I press the button for the elevator Dr Lecter appears once again at my side.  
“I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to go up alone to confront a man who has already been violent towards you.” He says folding his hands in front of him, keeping his eyes forward.  
“I- Thank you.” I decide not to argue. I hope that the presence of another man will temper Robert’s anger.  
We ride the elevator in silence, I wring my hands together nervously but my companion shows no signs of apprehension. Stepping out on my floor my breath catches when I see that my door is standing open.  
I stride forward with as much dignity as I can and look into my home. The bags of Roberts belongings are still by the door with the addition of my Television which has been ripped from the wall as well as a pair of silver candlesticks that were left to me by my grandmother.  
I look up at a noise to see Robert emerging from the hallway, clutching my jewellery box. He freezes, shame and anger warring on his handsome face.  
“Oh, Robert.” I say softly, stepping inside the door. Dr Lecter glides in behind me and appraise the situation silently.  
Robert drops the jewellery box which breaks and spills its glittering contents across the floor.  
“I can’t say I’m surprised.” He spits. “You’ve been waiting to replace me with this high class pansy.”  
“Robert-” I start and he cuts me off.  
“Shut it! I’m tired of you looking down on me you overpriced prissy whore!” He shouts and I flinch at each word. We’ve been together for nearly five years, every word is like a knife in my heart.  
“May I suggest you take what actually belongs to you and leave?” Dr Lecter days smoothly. Robert darts forward to square up to him. Dr Lecter is taller but I am acutely aware of Robert’s brute strength.  
“May I suggest that you shut your goddamn mouth, faggot!” He yells. He doesn’t notice me pull something from my bag.  
“Sir, nothing will be solved with violence. Please.” Dr Lecter replies, his voice is level. Robert may as well be yelling at a statue.  
“Robert.” I say and he turns to see me holding out a taser. “Do as he says, take your things and go.” I turn it on briefly to show I’m not kidding.  
He sneers at me and goes to pick up the bags. I warn him when he bends to pick up the candlesticks and he exits yelling curses at us until the elevator closes on him.  
I take a deep breath and turn around. Dr Lecter us stood in the middle of my living room with a look of mild interest on his face.  
“I guess I should call the police.” I say and pull out my phone. He nods as I dial and start to make a report. I turn down their offer of sending an officer, I doubt Robert will be back. I’ve known him long enough to know that he’ll go and drink away his anger.  
Hanging up I look for Dr Lecter to see he’s collected my scattered jewellery and put it and the broken box on my dining table.  
“You have a lovely home, Miss Grace.” He says, turning an emerald earring in his fingers, appreciating the fire that attracted me to them.  
“Thank you, Dr Lecter.” I say, falling back into our established lines of conversation. “And thank you for coming up here. I don’t know what would have happened if I were here alone.”  
“You’re welcome.” He says putting the earring down and turning to me. “Will you be alright by yourself?” He says and I nod.  
“Yes, I’ll be fine.” I open my door for him and he steps through smoothly.  
“I will see you on Monday then. Goodnight, Miss Grace.” He says and treats me to a rare smile.  
“Goodnight, Dr Lecter.” I reply.

I expect Robert to make an appearance at some point over the weekend but he seems to have disappeared. I breathe a sigh of relief at his absence.  
I take down the photos of us that still hang on my wall, I realise that every fond memory I have is eclipsed by a dark moment and I wonder why I stayed with him for so long.  
I buy myself a new jewellery box and use the time to reorganise my closet. Its strangely pleasant to have more room.  
On Monday morning it’s like nothing happened. The doctor and I return to following the schedule in the diary. There are no further lunches in his kitchen, our interactions now are back on script.  
The only deviation is when Dr Lecter gifts me a joint of lamb. I roast it to his instructions and it is wonderful. I decide to return the favour but cannot decide how. Eventually I realise the best way to show my appreciation.  
Months after that gallery opening and I’m letting myself into his house with a bag under my arm. I’ve searched for a special vintage of Dr Lecter’s favourite Merlot and a box of fresh truffles. I hope he will like them.  
I realise that the truffles will probably make the reception smell somewhat strange so I decided to put them straight in the pantry, I’ll present him with the wine and tell him where I put the truffles.  
I pass through his beautiful cobalt blue dining room into the kitchen and put my handbag on the counter before opening the pantry. There’s something illicit about being in this part of the house without invitation but I ignore it.  
I open the door to the pantry and step in. I put the box of truffles on the small table in there and turn to leave. Before I go my eye catches on something, the fridge in here has been left open a crack and I can see the light seeping out from the crack in the door. Suddenly glad I came in I walk to it, I go to close it but realise that something is blocking it. I open it wide and my heart stops.  
Inside the fridge, wrapped in cellophane, is a human arm. It was this that was blocking the door, as it was caught at an angle on the shelf. I swallow hard, frozen in place.  
The light above me flicks on and I close my eyes. The knife appears at my throat like magic. I can hear my heart beating.  
“Step back and close the door, please.” He says behind me. Even now he’s keeping a professional distance. 

The glass is broken but still stands. 

I do as he asks.  
“Good morning, Dr Lecter. I’m sorry I haven’t made any coffee yet.” I say, falling back into old patterns. I’m shaking but my voice is steady.  
“Thank you, Miss Grace.” He says, he is calm but there’s a tone to his voice I haven't heard before. “Will you step back now, please.” 

The glass splinters in a network of cracks across its surface.

I do as he asks and he slides around me so we can see each other. He’s in his suit trousers and shirt but it’s untucked and not fully buttoned. It’s the most ruffled I’ve ever seen him.  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I brought you a gift.” He inhales deeply.  
“Truffles, fresh. I see.” He says.  
“I didn’t want to keep them in reception, they might have spoiled.” I say, forcing myself to look at his face.  
“Understandable.” He says as I meet his eyes. For once it feels like he sees me.  
“The fridge was open and I didn’t want the motor to burn out. It was blocked so I had to open it.” I try to focus on my breathing.  
“Thank you for that.” He says. He looks like he’s thinking.  
“Please.”I say and his eyebrows raise. Begging won’t help, I know that. “Don’t let it hurt.” I breathe. His eyes narrow and he steps closer.  
“Pardon?” He says and I can feel the blade caress the skin of my neck.  
“Don’t let it hurt, please.” I say a little clearer. His other hand comes up and hovers near my cheek, as if deciding if he wishes to touch me. To cross that line. “The diary is in my bag. You have a wine tasting this weekend, don’t wear your Dior shoes. They squeak on the floor of the vineyard.” I say and an expression I’ve never seen crosses his face, confusion. “I got you tickets to the opera next week, they are in the drawer of my desk. Ten rows back, centre.” I keep going as if giving him the weekly summary. “The chair of the philharmonic society’s birthday is next month.”  
He steps closer, examining me closely.  
“The password to the computer is-” I stop for breath. “Lithuania and the year of your birth.” I close my eyes. “I think that’s everything.”  
“Are you sure?” He asks, he’s close enough I can smell his cologne. Warm with a soft spice undertone.  
“Yes. Please.” I say softly and wait for the blow, the pain.  
He withdraws suddenly and I open my eyes, he’s gone. I turn and he’s in the doorway with his back to me.  
“To your post, Miss Grace. We will discuss this after my appointments today.” He says and leaves to finish getting dressed.  
I blink and try to compose myself. I can’t think so I do what I always do.  
I return to the reception and make coffee. I put a cup on his desk and start clicking through his emails.  
A few minutes later he enters like always.  
“Good morning, Dr Lecter. There’s coffee on your desk, I thought the Blue Mountain best for today.” I say, I’m surprised how normal I sound.  
“Thank you, Paula.” He replies, I’m shocked at his use of my name. I can’t recall him ever using it.  
“Your first appointment is in a quarter of an hour. Here is your mail.” I stand and hand it to him. This time when our eyes meet there is something there but I can’t read it. I know this man better than anyone. I know everything about him. His likes and dislikes, his measurements and financial details, His friends and adversaries. But I cannot read him.  
I sit down when he closes the door and open the diary. I look through the next few months for any of my own appointments and consider cancelling them but decide better of it.  
My disappearance will be even more suspicious if it looks premeditated.  
His first appointment arrives and I greet them with a smile. I wonder if they will notice my absence. I see them in as always and decide to return to my studies.  
Two patients later and I enter the office myself.  
“That’s it for today, Dr Lecter. Your afternoon appointment just called to cancel for this week. They have the stomach flu.” I say to him. He is sat behind his desk and I feel his eyes on me.  
“Very well, shall we continue our discussion from earlier.” he says and motions for me to sit in front of the desk.  
I sit, careful to tuck my skirt under my legs. My Chanel suit is new today, black with lilac piping, a fitting outfit to die in. He leans onto the desk, flexing his fingers elegantly.  
“I must say I’m fascinated by your reaction. You seem more concerned about not inconveniencing me than by dying.” His voice is silken, I’ve never heard him talk like this. “Most beg and plead for their lives.”  
“Would it help?” I ask, meeting his gaze. He rewards me with a half smile and stands up to walk around the desk slowly.  
“I was curious as to what you would do if I released you. I expected you to panic, to run, to call for help. Instead you return to work as if there was nothing wrong.” He stands behind me and puts one hand on the back of the chair. He’s still so careful not to touch me. 

The shards of glass shimmer between us but stay in place.

“Where would I go? Who would believe me? Is it worth panicking? Would it spare me any pain? No, I think it would just prolong it.” I say keeping my eyes forward, focusing on the fireplace behind his desk.  
The knife reappears at my throat and I take a shaky breath.  
“Did you think I would spare you if you showed you were of use to me?” He asked.  
“No. I wanted to-” I tail off. “I wanted to make sure you could pick up from where I left off. It was my fault for looking.”  
“Stand up.” He ordered gently after a moment. I stand slowly, the knife never leaving me for a second. “To the kitchen, please.” His politeness even now is astounding but I move carefully.  
“I must say that you are by far the best assistant I have ever had. Efficient and willing to show initiative. You have never given me cause to doubt you.” He says as we walk.  
“Even now?” I ask.  
“Even now.” He agrees. “Turn around.”  
We stand in his kitchen, the late morning sun streaming through the windows. I turn to look into his eyes. I note he’s wearing the deep red suit, the one I once complimented him on, he wasn’t wearing those trousers when he found me. Did he dress for me?  
“Dr Lecter-” I start.  
“How did you feel when you found it?” He asked, cutting me off.  
“Shocked.” I say.  
“That it was there?” He questions, I know this curiosity. I have seen it before.  
“That I did not know it was there.” I answer, he backs me up to the counter which bites into my back.  
“Why?” His eyes are bright.  
“I thought I knew everything about you.” I admit.  
“Everything?”  
“Yes. I know you prefer dark colours because they are truer to nature. I know you prefer red wine to white but know when one is more suitable than the other. I know you prefer to speak in English but curse in Italian. You think the lyrical quality of Italian adds greater emphasis.” I smile weakly. “I know you hate rudeness. Discourtesy is ugly and there’s no place for it.” He steps closer and his eyes fill my vision, they seem to be full of sparks. “I know that you killed Roger.”  
The sparks seem to fly to the centre of his eyes. He comes closer, I can feel the warmth of him but he still does not touch me.  
“And?” He breathes, I grip the edge of the counter to ground myself.  
“Thank you, Dr Lecter.” I say and close my eyes.

Instead of the knife I feel his fingers grazing my throat, exploring my jaw and cupping my face. I’m sure he can feel my pulse under his fingertips. He’s so close to me that I’m pinned in place by his body. He leans in to press his cheek against mine, his lips just grazing my ear.  
“You surprise me, it’s not often someone can offer me such a gift. I’d like to thank you for that.” He whispers as his free hand slides around my waist. My lips part in surprise but I keep my eyes shut. His thumb runs over my lips. 

The glass between us has begun to fall but seems to freeze in midair.

His hand slips down to wrap firmly around my throat constricting my breath slightly. My heartbeat flutters under his hand.  
“My pleasure, Dr Lecter.” I whisper. He lifts his head and looks me in the eye from little more than an inch away, his and circling my throat constricts just a little more.  
Almost without thinking I lean into him slightly, as if giving him permission. His eyes widen and his attention falls to my lips. He gently presses his own lips against mine, testing, tasting me like a wine he was unsure of.  
He grips my waist like a vice and pulls me against him. He parts my lips expertly and his tounge invades my mouth like a conquering army. He tastes of his morning coffee and of something wild, primal.  
He lifts me without warning and carries me out of the kitchen towards the stairs, stopping only once to press me against the wall and claim my lips again. I had no idea he was so strong, he lifts me like I am nothing. He carries up the stairs to a part of the house I have never been to. His bedroom.  
I don’t have time to take in my surroundings before he throws me on the bed and climbs over me. I tentatively reach up to clutch at his jacket but he grabs my wrists to pin them over my head. I am not permitted to touch him it seems.  
“No.” He breathes. “Your hands must stay above your head unless I say. Do you understand?” I nod and he squeezes my wrists tightly, enough to hurt, a warning.  
“Yes, Dr Lecter.” I say and he returns to my lips and releases my wrists to pull off his jacket and toss it aside. He removes his tie and uses it to bind my hands together.  
“You will do as I say without hesitation. Do you understand?” He says, standing to look at me.  
“Yes, Dr Lecter.” He seems pleased with my reply and begins to unbutton his shirt. I swallow as he removes it, he is more toned than I could have imagined his skin pale and dappled with hair.  
“Open your blouse.” He orders and I fumble with the buttons. The bra beneath is plain but not ugly. I see him watching me move. “Remove your skirt.” he orders and I manage to awkwardly unzip it and slide it down my legs. He lifts each leg in turn and pulls off my shoes.  
Lowering himself he kisses me again, this time with more furosity as his hands explore me.  
I’ve been careful not to make any noise but can’t help but gasp as he slides one skilled hand between my legs. To my shame my arousal is apparent to him. He makes no comment except to press at my core through the thin cotton.  
He pushes aside the fabric and rubs circles around my clitoris, I’m panting at the feeling. He leaves my lips to run his tounge down my throat. At the moment his fingers enter me he bites the nape of my neck and my hips buck involuntarily.  
“Dr Lecter!” I gasp and he stops moving, I want to whine but hold my tounge.  
He leans up to plant a tiny kiss on my lips, crooking a finger inside me to caress the most sensitive part of me.  
“Say my name.” he orders, his movements devilishly slow.  
“Dr-” I start but his eyes flash a warning. “Hannibal.” I breathe. Its the first time I’ve ever called him by his first name. He smiles and continues his careful torture. I can feel his desire growing against my leg.  
I can feel the tension in my body growing and I’m desparate for him to do more, my body clenches around him but he withholds this. Delicately he moves his thumb back to run circles. So close.  
He withdraws his hand and brings it to his lips, sucking my taste from them. He never breaks eye contact, not for a second even as he rises to remove his trousers and underwear. Returning to the bed he lays between my shaking legs and presses against my entrance. I close my eyes.  
“Open them.” He orders and I look at him. His eyes bore into mine as he slips slowly, inch by inch, into me. I pant and my lips part at the feel of him entering my heated core and he drinks in my reaction. When at last he’s fully sheathed in me he stops and slides an arm beneath me, lifting my hips so that I can feel him deeper.  
“Hannibal! Please!” I pant, begging him to move. I try to buck my body against his but he holds me still. He wants me to feel his power over me, his control.  
He holds me a moment longer then begins to thrust against me, slow smooth movements. I want to wrap my arms around him to bury my hands in his hair. I claw at the sheets to stop myself and moan at the feel of him above me.  
The tension builds higher and higher my head is swimming with his touch, his taste, his scent. I cry out as my orgasam hits and he bites down on my throat as I writhe beneath him, calling his name.  
He draws out it as long as he’s able then joins me with a harsh gasp, I feel him fill me then withdraw. I’m nearly insensible as he rolls off then pulls me to lay on the pillows and gently unties my hands. He does not hold me, rather he lies next to me and regards me.  
I turn to face him, unsure how to react.  
“What happens now?” I manage to ask.  
He smiles.

The glass settles at our feet, at last we see each other.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm considering writing another part to this. If you're interested let me know.


End file.
